Storm
by chidogs
Summary: Part of the Encounter Series, events that take place in the 3 mystery years before the androids come. BV one shot. Bulma must deal with a dream and a thunderstorm with Vegetas help.


Encounters:

Storm

Disclaimer: I do not own DBZ or any of its incarnations. I only play in their world for awhile.

Bulma sat up in a rush, the bed sheets flying. _That _dream again. She rubbed her eyes furiously, then blinked and stared at the far wall. Why did she keep having _that _dream? What was wrong with her? She had had it ever since getting back from that awful trip to Namek. And it wasn't the one she'd had there, where she was justifiably terrified of a certain maniacal Saiyan prince. No, this one had started up after she got back. And she kept having it. It was unnerving, and totally frightening. She'd even jokingly told Yamcha and Oolong about it. All right, that wasn't a very smart move, she had to admit now. But, she'd thought if she made a joke about it, the dreams would stop and she wouldn't have to deal with them anymore. They hadn't stopped. And she was still waking up in a panic, shaking and confused. And all because in her dream…

Vegeta kissed her.

Yeah, she thought to herself, getting up and wrapping herself in a thick robe. The egotistical, self-centered little alien kissed her in her dream. And damn it, if she hadn't liked it. Liked it? Bulma grimaced as she opened her balcony doors and stared outside at the raging storm dumping sheets of rain on the lawn. She'd melted in his arms, surely something that was so ludicrous it shouldn't disturb her at all. The dream itself was completely strange. One of those kinds where she was looking frantically for something but she wasn't sure what, only that it was important and she needed to find it. Then, somehow, _he_ showed up. And in that ridiculous dream, she knew that _he_ was what she was looking for. He said her name in that curious way he had, (when he bothered to use her name, that was), and she shamelessly threw herself at him. That's when he kissed her. Intensely. Passionately. And damn it, she had kissed him back.

Bulma took a breath of the rain soaked air, and grunted. Stupid dream. Insanity. She didn't even like the guy. Well, all right, so he wasn't bad to look at. But he had none of the traits she felt were important in a man. Not like Yamcha or Goku. She glared as a lightening bolt lit the sky, and moments later thunder rattled the windows.

Maybe a snack would relax her. Pointless to try to get right back to bed now. Besides, she always enjoyed a stormy night. She would make a nice cup of hot chocolate and watch it from the big living room. That would make that awful dream go away.

Bulma slipped her feet into fuzzy slippers, tied the robe snugly and left her room to pad softly down the hallway to the stairs that led to the lower floor and the kitchen. She flicked on the kitchen lights and tossed milk, cocoa and sugar into a pan, and warmed it. Then, pouring it into a mug, she topped it with a few marshmallows, and carried it carefully into the adjoining living room.

The drapes were open and the floor to ceiling windows looked out on the falling rain. Bulma sat down on the big sofa, curled her feet under her and sipped hot chocolate, watching the storm with distant eyes.

The crash and rumble jolted him awake. He was off the bed and crouched defensively in a fraction of a second, a blaze of power flickering in his hand, before the thunder even stopped rolling. Realizing with a sense of sheepishness, that this was yet another inconvenience of living on a planet rather than in the stable conditions of a space ship, Vegeta gave a snort of annoyance. Stupid planet. Stupid weather. He stood up and eyed the room. Even though he knew he was alone, he had an involuntary dread that someone had seen his reaction and was even now doubled over laughing. He would expect that of Kakarott, had he been here. And he would expect it of Bulma.

Just the thought of the brainy, energetic, bubbly Bulma Briefs, made Vegeta cringe. Why did she creep into his thoughts at the slightest provocation? The woman was constantly trying his patience. She spied on his training. She lurked around every corner. Yes, of course, this was her house, but still, she was always underfoot. And he kept encountering her at the worst moments. He didn't want to talk, to have polite conversations. He avoided people as much as he could.

He stepped over to the balcony off of his room. The doors were open and he could smell the ozone from the lightening. Such power. If only he could harness it. He stared out into the wind swept sheets of rain. The anger of the weather appealed to him in a way. It matched his own temperament. A sense of camaraderie flickered in him towards the storm and his lips curved slightly into a sardonic smile. At one with the stupid planet's weather, are we? Idiotic fancy.

"I'm hungry." He announced to himself. He grabbed his black exercise shorts and pulled them on. One never knew when Mrs. Briefs would be flitting around, so he had learned to be prepared. Not that she would probably do more than tell him not to get chilled if she did encounter him butt naked, but still. The slight grin remained on his face as he left his room.

Lightening flashed and thunder rolled as Vegeta prepared himself a "snack" in Saiyan terms. He knew he was lucky that the Briefs weren't at all disturbed by the quantity of food they had to keep in stock. They were, after all, according to Bulma, used to feeding Kakarott. Idiot. But they all seemed to adore the fool, and he figured that their treatment of him reflected that. Clearly, Bulma had not shared everything that had happened on Namek with her family. And somehow, no one seemed to remember that he had tried, and almost succeeded in killing Kakarott here on earth the first time he'd come. Oh well, humans were just strange creatures.

The snack devoured, Vegeta put the plates in the sink and started to go back to his room. Another flash of lightening however drew his attention to the doorway that led to the big living room. He rarely went there. He knew the Briefs spent evenings there often, watching the television and talking; both activities that he wanted nothing to do with. So he stayed away.

She was there. He could sense it. He stepped into the doorway and looked into the room. The huge glass windows took up the far wall, and the storm was putting on its show outside. When the lightening lit up the sky, it also lit up the room and he saw her. She was curled up on the sofa, an empty cup on the floor, her head pillowed in her arms. Vegeta arched an eyebrow. She appeared to be asleep. Why down here, he had no idea. Nor was it any of his business. Encounters with Bulma Briefs always made him very uncomfortable for mysterious reasons. And he hated anything that he couldn't understand. He backed away slowly.

"Vegeta,"

He froze. He'd been sure she was asleep. But that was her voice, a little muffled, and almost whispered. He stepped back into the doorway. She hadn't moved. Vegeta frowned and waited a moment.

"Vegeta…"

Now, that was a tone she had never used to address him. Warm and inviting. Welcoming. His eyebrows shot up. Still, she hadn't moved. And her voice…ah, of course. Vegeta took another step into the room, and moved to where he was behind the sofa. He looked down at her. Yes, asleep. So, the girl was dreaming. About him? Vegeta had to stifle the rare urge to laugh. He could barely see her features in the darkness, yet he tried to. Curiosity made him bend over the back of the sofa slightly. The lightening did him the favor of flashing, and he could see clearly. She had a soft smile on her face. He had never seen her look like that before. He felt a silent alarm go off in his mind. The look, the voice, they were both setting off an uncomfortable reaction in him. An exceptionally loud crack of thunder rattled the windows.

He started to straighten up, only to find himself staring into wide blue eyes that had snapped open suddenly. Wide blue eyes that reflected sudden startled fright.

"Ahhhhhh!" Bulma shot up from the sofa, just as Vegeta jumped backwards.

They stared at each other over the back of the sofa. Bulma had her arms wrapped around herself. Lightening flashed. Thunder rumbled.

"What were you doing?" she asked, her features taut.

"I did nothing," Vegeta planted his fists on his hips. His lips tightened and his jaw clenched. This was already turning into one of those arguments he hated.

"You were standing there! Staring at me! I opened my eyes and you were standing there!" Bulma said accusingly. "Why?"

"Because you called me," Vegeta snapped back. " and I've learned not to ignore your shouting."

"I did not. I was asleep…" Bulmas eyes, which had gone back to normal, now widened again. She remembered. "Oh my God. I called you?" Inside she cringed. The dream. She'd had the dream out here, and he had heard her talking in her sleep. Was there enough room for her to crawl under the sofa? Probably not. Better to tough it out. She braced herself.

"Yes. You called me."

"What did I say?"

"You said my name. Twice." Unable to resist, Vegeta's lips curled into a smirk. "So, you dream of me."

"I have nightmares of you, more like." But they didn't include you shirtless in those tight short things, her mind whispered.

"Hmph. Well then…" He turned to go.

"Wait."

"What?"

"Um, come back a moment, please."

He turned slowly, aware that her tone had changed and she was no longer flustered, afraid or angry. No, she had a strange new tone to her voice. He wondered if it was he that should be afraid now. But he took a step into the room. Damn curiosity. The woman was one ongoing mystery. He eyed her warily. "Yes?"

Bulma walked around the sofa and approached him. She had an idea. A strange and scary idea. But it just might work. If she could get Mr. Ego to cooperate. The room was dark except for faint light from the amber outdoor fixtures. The lightening seemed to have moved on, as thunder echoed in the distance.

"You're right. I have dreams of you. I would like them to stop. Will you help me do that?"

"How?" He stared at her. She was close enough that he could see her lips curve into a slow, hesitant smile. There was a calculating look in her eyes. He felt an urge to run.

"Kiss me."

His jaw dropped. No words came forth. He could see the twinkle in her blue eyes. Why, and how did she always manage to confuse him? Was she crazy? Did she mean it? Or was she just trying to embarrass him.

"I will not." He finally got his voice to work, gruff though it was. "What sort of joke is that?"

"It's no joke." She said, standing way too close. "You do it in my dream. I just really want to make the dream go away. So if you do it, then I won't have the silly dream anymore."

His head hurt, "And how is that?"

"Because, the reality will cancel out the fantasy and I won't need to dream it. You know how dreams are always making things seem better than they really are. Honestly, I have no idea where that dream came from, but it is annoying, and it's keeping me awake nights. So, why don't you just help me, then you can go on your way."

"Are you serious?"

"Yes, I think so."

There were times that he did see her mother in her. This was one of those times. But in a strange and twisted way, she made sense. And who was he to back away from a challenge. So, she believed that her little dream kiss was superior that what reality would be? Foolish human. She knew so little about him.

"Fine," he grunted.

"I don't like you, so don't get any ideas from this," she stepped closer. They were eye to eye. "This is strictly scientific."

"As if I would," he muttered.

"Okay, you can kiss me now," she stood there and shut her eyes. Vegeta studied her a moment, expression unusually thoughtful.

Then, he slowly wrapped his arms around her, and kissed her.

Bulma sat on the sofa and stared with glassy eyes at the rain. She was alone. She didn't know when he'd gone. She'd been too numb to notice. He must have set her down gently on the sofa or she'd have fallen. She had been right, though. It had worked. She would never have that dream again, about Vegeta kissing her. How could she, knowing what the real thing was like? Thunderstorms would never be the same for her, ever again.

Upstairs, Vegeta stood on his balcony and let the rain pour over him. It did little to cool the unexpected heat that had flared in his veins. Not when he had kissed _her_, but when _she _had kissed him back.


End file.
